


Stuck in Silver

by earlgreytea68



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-20
Updated: 2018-04-20
Packaged: 2019-04-25 06:40:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14373078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/earlgreytea68/pseuds/earlgreytea68
Summary: A sweet little ice dancing AU!





	Stuck in Silver

**Author's Note:**

  * For [flosculatory](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flosculatory/gifts).



> This is for flosculatory, who won it in the Oscars pool, because SHE IS SO GOOD AT OSCARS PREDICTIONS!
> 
> Her prompt was "ice dance." 
> 
> I really wanted to do something Olympic-y, so I was delighted by this prompt. Thank you, flos! Glad you like it! :-)

“It’s not fair,” Ariadne said frankly, frustrated, and threw their fifth straight silver medal on the floor in frustration.

 

Arthur, following behind her, leaned down and picked it up and put it on the dresser. Mostly because he couldn’t stand to have the hotel room be a mess.

 

Ariadne, having worked herself up into a proper furor, whirled on him from the opposite edge of the hotel room. “If you were fucking me, we’d have every single gold.”

 

“I’m not—”

 

“No. Ew. I don’t want you to. I’m just _saying_. Ice dancing is so fucking _heteronormative_. If there were any justice in the world, we could have same-sex teams and you could skate with Eames and I could skate with the lovely Mal.” Ariadne got that dreamy look in her eyes that she always got when she talked about Mal.

 

Arthur ignored that look, because it was much more important that he deny that he had ever spent any time _at all_ thinking about Eames’s big strong hands closing around his waist. “What? I don’t want to skate with Eames. Why do you think I would want to skate with Eames?”

 

Ariadne gave him a look.

 

***

 

Arthur went to the rink in the middle of the night when he couldn’t sleep, which was something he was in the habit of doing. Saito, the coach he and Ariadne shared with Dom and Mal Cobb, always made sure that Arthur had access. In the early days, Saito had tried to get Arthur to sleep normal amounts, but he had finally given up on that, much to Arthur’s relief.

 

Arthur had, once upon a time, thought he might have a solo figure skating career. He had been young and enthusiastic and dedicated to time on the ice.

 

And then his coach at the time said to his mother, _Arthur is a very precise skater. It would be best for him to try pair skating, so that someone can give him some soul._

 

What a thing to say about an eleven-year-old, Arthur had always thought, and the sting of it had never quite worn off, even though then he’d met Ariadne. And he and Ariadne had been a wonderful fantastic team, rising steadily up through the ranks, and Arthur had gotten to go through the joy of adolescence assuming he was supposed to be having dirty thoughts about Ariadne because everyone seemed to think he was.

 

And then Arthur had met Eames, part of a British ice-dancing team. It was Arthur and Ariadne’s first senior-level competition, and Arthur had been starry-eyed enough over the older, seasoned pros all around them, and then there had been…Eames. A few years older, and at the top of the game, and Arthur and Ariadne had seen Eames and his partner skate plenty of times on television, and Arthur had always thought Eames was an incredible skater, and then Eames appeared in front of him, in person, ruffled from the competition they’d just finished skating, broad and strong and Arthur had the filthiest thoughts he ever had in his life, immediately, all at once in a cavalcade.

 

“Arthur, yeah?” Eames said, and Arthur’s name sounded like a purr in that British voice, all bitten-off r’s.

 

“What?” Arthur said, staring at Eames’s chest, because Eames was wearing a shirt that was gaping open down his navel.

 

“It was beautiful skating. Just wanted to say. Really gorgeous. Be seeing you around on the circuit.”

 

Arthur stared at him, speechless.

 

Eames winked.

 

Arthur watched him go, dry-mouthed, staring at his ass in that clinging costume, at his powerful thighs, and thought, _Oh_. _You’re really, definitely gay_.

 

Eames threw a glance over his shoulder, cheeky, lush mouth twisted in a knowing grin.

 

And Arthur had felt, from that moment, like Eames knew everything about him and that wasn’t fair. It was, in fact, infuriatingly embarrassing, and Arthur did a lot of avoiding of Eames.

 

Which was why he wasn’t happy when he got to the rink in the middle of the night and found Eames there, skating in slow circles around the ice.

 

It had not occurred to Arthur that anyone else might be there, and he drew up short in horror.

 

Eames spotted him and skated over to him and smiled like he was happy to see him. “Hello, Arthur.”

 

Arthur blurted out, “What are you doing here?”

 

“Skating,” said Eames. “What are you doing here?”

 

“I couldn’t sleep,” Arthur said, and didn’t know why he was saying that.

 

“The silver bothering you?” asked Eames.

 

Arthur glared at him and didn’t think of Eames’s gleaming collection of gold medals somewhere. “No,” he said sulkily.

 

“Hey,” Eames said placatingly. “I didn’t say it to gloat. It should be bothering you. You and Ari skate well enough to win.”

 

“Yeah,” Arthur said haughtily. “We know.” He stepped out onto the ice because he was refusing to let Eames get the better of him.

 

“I was hoping to catch you,” Eames said, his eyes intent on him. “You have a reputation for middle-of-the-night skating.”

 

“So you’re stalking me now?” said Arthur.

 

“I had to resort to stalking you, because you’ve avoided me for two years now.”

 

“You could take a hint,” Arthur retorted.

 

“Also,” added Eames casually, “I was waiting for you to turn eighteen.”

 

That caught Arthur by surprise. “I turned eighteen last year,” he said guardedly.

 

“Yeah,” agreed Eames, “and then I decided I should wait a little while so as not to be _that guy_.”

 

“What ‘that guy’?” said Arthur blankly. He felt like he was spinning around and around and couldn’t get a handle on anything.

 

“The guy who immediately asks the hot kid for a drink as soon as he’s old enough.”

 

“I’m not old enough to drink,” Arthur managed dazedly.

 

Eames laughed, a nice warm laugh that did not help Arthur’s dizziness. “Darling,” he said, and skated forward, just a bit, right into Arthur’s space, and then let them glide gently back against the boards together. “Your skating with Ari lacks passion. That’s why you’re stuck in silver.”

 

Arthur had his hands in Eames’s shirt. He wasn’t sure when he’d put them there, but Eames had his hands so low on Arthur’s hips that they were going to be on Arthur’s ass in a second. Which Arthur was totally okay with. Arthur stared at Eames’s sinfully gorgeous mouth and thought, _Passion, you say?_

 

Eames said, voice pitched low, “I thought I could give you some lessons.”

 

“Oh, my God,” said Arthur. “That is the worst, cheesiest line ever and I’m never going to let you forget it.” Then he pulled Eames in for a kiss.


End file.
